


shallow nonsense is my job description (one-shots vol. 1)

by harpers_mirror (SapphireBryony)



Series: Collected Shorts & One-Shots [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Multi, One Shot Collection, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBryony/pseuds/harpers_mirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shots, shippy and not, mostly tumblr prompt fills or ideas from the chats. Nothing is connected to anything else. (Chapter index contains pairing info per chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. step right up (try your luck) [eiffel/minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Minffel, a 'we're actually being kind of silly for once' kiss"

“Ugghhhhh...”

“I told you so.”

“Uggghhhh...”

“I told you it was a terrible, dangerous, foolhardy idea.”

“Uggghhhh...”

“But then, when has that ever stopped you before? Why would _mere logic_ dissuade you from doing something as ridiculous as eating two corns dogs and an entire wad of cotton candy, chasing it with approximately a gallon of lemonade - “

 _“Please_ stop. I’m begging you, Minkowski.”

“ - and then dragging me onto the spinning tea cups, where you proceeded to make our cup spin as fast as your little arms could manage?”

“Minkowski?”

“Yes, Eiffel?”

“I will literally never ask you for anything again as long as we live if you promise to stop right now.”

 _“Three times in a row,_ Eiffel.”

“To be fair, you sat the last one out.”

“Because unlike you, Eiffel, I have some sense of self-preservation.”

“And yet you followed me onto the tea cups.”

“I’m also made of much sterner stuff than you.”

“...fair. Uggghhhh...”

 _“Eiffel,_ for god’s sake. I know tiny children who whine less than you do.”

“Yeah, well, I’m much older and more decrepit than they are. Plus they’re much shorter and closer to the ground so it hurts less when they inevitably spin themselves into falling over.”

“You know I’m four years older than you, right? And anyway, I caught you before you could hit the ground. Much.”

“Thanks for that. Always looking out for me.”

“I long ago accepted that as my primary responsibility in life.”

“Your lap makes a nice pillow, by the way. Soft.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Minkowski?”

“Yes, Eiffel?”

“My head hurts.”

“Well maybe next time you’ll think before you assume that meeting the height requirement for a ride means that you must subject yourself to it.”

“...nah.”

“I thought it seemed unlikely...there, did that help?”

“Yup. There are few things in life that cannot be kissed better. True facts.”

“You really are basically five years old, aren’t you?”

“Again, yup. It’s part of my charm.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Eiffel. Maybe one day it’ll come true.”

“Well, you keep putting up with me, so I figure it must work at least a little bit.”

“...maybe just a little.”

“Minkowski?”

“Yes, Eiffel?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Doug.”


	2. promises [lovelace/selberg]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Loveberg, a desperate kiss"

He found her floating in the observation deck, staring out into space. This was...less than optimal. He’d thought the room would be empty, had wanted it to be empty so that he might get away from his lab, from Officer Lambert’s body growing cold on his table, from everything that was his life here. 

He’d wanted to be alone with the stars for a while. But clearly, that was not meant to be.

“Captain Lovelace?” he asked, rather tentatively. “Do you mind if I...” he trailed off as he floated alongside her.

“S’fine,” she murmured, not looking at him. Her face was blank. It betrayed no grief, no sorrow, no trace of the frustrated fury that had dominated it lately.

They floated side by side in heavy silence for a time before she finally spoke. “Sam once told me the reason he wanted to come to space, why he wanted to work in communications in a place where there was no one to communicate with. Do you know what it was?”

“No, I do not. Officer Lambert and I never spoke of anything personal. We did not have that kind of relationship.”

Isabel huffed a small, quiet laugh. “Yeah, well, under normal circumstances I don’t think Sam had that kind of relationship with _anyone._ But I guess things change when you know anything you say might be the last thing you ever say. Maybe it makes you want to make sure someone knew who you were before you’re gone...” 

She paused and swallowed hard, closing her eyes, face no longer blank. Unsure of what he ought to do, Selberg reached out a tentative hand and rested it on her shoulder. She didn’t react.

After a moment, she opened her eyes, gaze still fixed on the stars, and continued. “Anyway, he told me that he’d never been able to effectively communicate with anyone on Earth so he thought maybe he’d have better luck with extraterrestrials. That maybe they’d understand him better. And in the end, he never even got to. What a waste.”

Selberg winced, and reflexively tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Captain, I am sorry that I could not do more. I am sorry that you are hurt by this.” He hesitated, then continued. “These things happen but I wish they needn’t.”

Lovelace covered his hand with her own and looked away from the window to meet his eyes for the first time. “Not your fault, Doctor. Just making me think all kinds of lovely thoughts about exactly how vulnerable and likely to die we all are out here.” She sighed. “I thought this would be an adventure. I knew the dangers but I thought they would be more exciting and less...I don’t know. Less sad and desperate.”

He hoped this eyes did not betray the sudden unpleasant and unexpected guilt he felt. Partially to break the stare, Selberg pulled her into his arms and she went surprisingly willingly. Wrapping her arms around him, Isabel settled her head on his shoulder and heaved a sigh.

“Thanks, Doc. I needed this.”

Selberg trailed a hand up and down her back, soothing away his own guilt along with her pain.

“I promise you, Isabel, I will protect you as long as possible. You have my word.”

She laughed harshly and pulled back, looking him square in the eye. “Thanks Doctor, but I’ve got this. Anything that tries to take me down - disease, meteors, Sam’s goddamn aliens - will have _me_ to deal with first.” 

Eyes alight with a fierce anger, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him squarely, her lips pressing to his with a bruising intensity. He was too stunned to react and she pulled away before he knew it.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I have a space station to command. Doctor.” She inclined her head. “I’ll see you later.”

Selberg stared after her, caught in a wave of equal parts guilt, desire, and fearful apprehension.

 _“Proklyat'ye,”_ he whispered. This was only going to end in tragedy.


	3. welcome home [eiffel/minkowski/lovelace]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Survivors' Club [Eiffel/Minkowski/Lovelace], 'What's with the pigtails?'"

“What’s with the pigtails?” Minkowski asked as Eiffel opened the apartment door. She eyed his wild fluffy curls which were, oddly enough, gathered into two little bunches, one on either side of his head. 

“Huh?” he asked absently, reaching up to touch one. They stuck out at odd angles and were haloed by a frizz of stray hairs. “Oh! Yeah. Uh...there may have been a slight incident with the paint and my hair once already this morning, and - ”

“You already opened the paint? Oh dear god. How much of a mess did you two manage to make without me?” She peered over Eiffel’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse inside.

Doug rolled his eyes and motioned her in. “After you, oh judgemental one. Ye of little faith. She who sits in condemnation - ”

“Doug?” she interrupted as he turned to close the door.

“Yes boss?”

“You have a pair of green paint handprints on your ass.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You were saying...?”

“Never mind.” He sheepishly followed her into Lovelace’s new apartment.

Four hours, three gallons of variously-colored paint, and one lengthy Minkowskian lecture that culminated in an entirely too competitive wrestling-match-turned-slap-fight later, the apartment was painted.

The three painters were sprawled on the drop cloth in what would be the bedroom. Lovelace sat leaning against the door frame (the only vertical surface in the room not covered in still-drying paint) with Minkowski’s head resting in her lap. Renée’s vibrant hair lay streaming out around her head, Isabel’s restless hands absently twisting it into a quantity of tiny braids. Doug lay dozing, pillowed on Minkowski’s stomach. Their hands were loosely intertwined, Renée’s thumb idly tracing patterns against his palm.

“Welcome home,” he murmured without opening his eyes.

Lovelace smiled, closing her own eyes and basking in the late afternoon sun that streamed through the western-facing window. 

“Never thought we’d make it,” she sighed. “Couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Well, that’s never going to be a problem again,” Renée answered quietly. “I won’t let it.”

“Me neither,” added Doug sleepily.

Isabel said nothing, throat gone suddenly tight and her eyes stinging. She touched Renée’s face, caught Eiffel’s free hand and squeezed, and both of them knew exactly what she felt.

The sun slowly set, surrounding the little group of survivors in shadows. Here the darkness harbored no fear though.

Anything they faced, they faced together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 5/3 to add [ Wendy's amazing art for this piece ](http://weirdmageddon-wendy.tumblr.com/post/143770677897/my-first-piece-for-ren%C3%A9e-minkowski-appreciation).


	4. when in doubt... [eiffel, hera, & hilbert]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt "Heiffera, 'How exactly did you manage to get stuck in there?'"

“How _exactly_ did you manage to get stuck in there?” Hera’s voice rang out skeptically through the speakers and Eiffel winced.

“Shh! Hera! I really, _really_ don’t want Minkowski to witness this particular low point in my life.” He squirmed uncomfortably as the metal bars chafed at the sides of his neck.

“But Officer Eiffel - ”

“Baby, does it really matter **how** I ended up like this?” He felt her critical regard and shook his head, wincing as he did. “Ow. Forget I asked. Anyway, got any brilliant ideas for getting me out of here? Sometime before the star goes cold, if possible?”

“We-elll....” She regarded him for a moment. “Butter? Oil? A blowtorch? Oooh, we could use Commander Minkowski’s preferred method: hydrochloric acid!”

“Hera!” Doug yelped, trying and failing to twist and look at her nearest camera. 

“What?” she asked, sounded slightly hurt. “The acid could dissolve the bars.”

“The acid could dissolve _me!”_

“Oh. Well. Let's bump that one to the bottom of the list then, shall we?”

 _“Let’s,”_ he growled.

“Officer Eiffel, please don’t get annoyed at me. It’s not my fault you got your head stuck doing...what was it exactly?”

 _“Unimportant._ But, uh,” he sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry babe. You’re right. I shouldn’t take my anger at my own stupidity out on you. Now, let’s put our heads together and -”

“Well, _I_ don’t have a head and I don’t think you should try to put _yours_ anywhere else at the moment.”

“ - and come up with a solution,” Eiffel finished, ignoring her commentary.

“A solution to what?” came another voice from just outside the comms room. 

“Shit, it’s Hilbert. Hera, please tell me you can shut the door!”

“With _what,_ the power of pure sarcasm?”

“Officer Eiffel?” Hilbert drifted into the room. “May I be of assistance in some way?” he asked, eyeing the trapped communications officer.

Eiffel sighed, sagging against his prison. “Yeah, doc, I suppose you might. Any ideas on how to get my head unstuck from these?” 

Hilbert blinked. “Did you not intend to trap yourself?”

“Did I - what? Why would I _intentionally_ get myself stuck like this?”

The scientist shrugged. “Perhaps you transgressed in some way and felt you deserved time in the stocks, in a peculiar return to colonial American justice?”

Now it was Eiffel’s turn to blink in confusion. “Or more logically, I just did something _really stupid_ and now am stuck.”

“Well, I did not want to jump to conclusions.”

“Whatever, doc. Ideas?”

“Hmm...” Hilbert circled him, taking in the scene. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. “Pryce & Carter 614: When in doubt, whip it out. ‘It’ being hydrochloric acid.” He beamed at the trapped man. “Pryce & Carter never fails, da?”

Hera’s electronic laughter echoed throughout the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I have no idea where on the Hephaestus there would be bars, or how exactly Eiffel could get his head stuck in them, but since both the station and Eiffel himself are basically made of improbability, I'm sure it could happen.)


	5. oh, I'm sure that's in Pryce & Carter somewhere [lovelace/minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for Sin Chat, who wanted to see Lovelace finding out Minkowski was married after hitting on her

“Seriously, _how_ often to you people manage to get trapped in airlocks around here?” Lovelace asked with an eye-roll of such extreme proportions that Minkowski was briefly worried for her ocular health.

“Honestly, at this point? Any potential trouble that you can imagine getting into in space? Assume it’s happened to us,” she replied with a sigh. She pressed the button on the intercom. “Eiffel?”

“Yeah Minkowski?”

“Any idea how long it’ll be til you’ve got that door open?”

“Negative, Commander,” crackled the voice through the speaker. He sounded frustrated. “The short fried all the wires that control the...door...opening...thingy. And since I possess the electrical engineering capabilities of someone from a pre-industrial society...this might take a while.” A pause, a crackle of electricity sparking, and a pained yelp intruded. “Yeah, definitely going to take a bit. But I have Hera helping me out, so, that’s something anyway. Never fear Commander, Captain. We’ll get ya out. Eventually.”

Minkowski sighed again, pushed off the wall near the intercom and floated back toward Lovelace. She bounced into the bulkhead next to the other woman and rested her head against the cold metal, thumping it gently against the chilly surface a few times.

“We’re going to die in here,” stated Lovelace flatly.

“No, we’re... _probably_ not going to die in here. Today,” Minkowski finished lamely. “But it’s definitely going to be a while. Any ideas on how to pass the time, other than watching Eiffel try to electrocute himself?”

Lovelace snorted and waggled her eyebrows at the commander. “Oh, I can think of some ways, but they’re not exactly Pryce & Carter approved. I mean, if we’re going to die in here anyway...” She grinned lasciviously.

Minkowski blinked slowly. “Did...Eiffel put you up to this?” she asked with obvious trepidation.

Lovelace sighed and deflated a little. “That obvious?”

“A bit. Not that I’m not flattered, but y’know, still married, which he damn well - ”

Lovelace interrupted her. “Wait, what? You’re...you’re _married?!”_

“Yes! Why does everyone find that so damn surprising, anyway?” 

“Married.”

“Yup.”

_“Maaaaried.”_

Minkowski buried her face in her hands and prayed Eiffel would get the door opened soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I tried but failed to make Isabel's flirting work seriously, but it just wasn't happening. So, shenanigans instead.)


	6. common goals [eiffel/koudelka, eiffel/minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an AU where Minkowski wasn't allowed to leave Goddard HQ, two slightly hapless men are trying to save her. Like she needs it.

Doug was pouring over yet another file, squinting blurry eyes that didn't want to focus at a sea of small type. He sighed and set it down. Much as he wanted to work non-stop ‘til they had her back, he knew logically that he couldn’t help Minkowski if he couldn’t focus.   
  
Leaning back against the couch cushions, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, watching fireworks bloom against the inside of his eyelids. After a moment, he dropped his hands to his lap, sighed again, and moved to get up.   
  
"I don't know about you but I am in desperate need of some caffeination. Can I get you - " He glanced at his companion and stopped.   
  
Seated at the dining room table, David Koudelka sat with his head buried in his hands, the file in front of him forgotten. His shoulders were shaking.   
  
Doug leapt up and headed over to him. Pulling out another of the chairs, he dragged it over near to where the other man sat, plopped down into it and then, tentatively, reached out a hand.   
  
"Uh, David? You okay man?" Awkwardly, he patted the other man's shoulder.   
  
David looked up, reddened eyes meeting Doug's tired gaze. "No. An evil corporation has my wife, the same evil corporation, might I add, that kept her away from me for over three years at the other end of the galaxy. I don't know if she's hurt, hell, I don't even know if she's alive! I don't have the faintest idea of how to go about saving her. And when I think about the idea that I still might never see her again after we made it this far, I basically forget how to breathe. So no, Doug, I definitely wouldn't classify myself as 'okay.'"   
  
A few more tears slipped down his stubble-shadowed cheeks and he scrubbed ineffectually at them. Instinctively, Eiffel reached out to wipe them away with his thumb and only realized that left him awkwardly cupping the other man's cheek after he finished.    
  
"David, I...I promise you, we’ll get her back. We  _ will _ save her." He chuckled a little and dropped his hand to rest on Koudelka's knee. "Heck, if I know Minkowski she's got herself half-saved already."   
  
David caught Doug's hand and squeezed it. "That, uh, that does sound like my wife, doesn't it?" He laughed wetly and Doug grinned.   
  
"Yup. Man, I keep expecting her to come waltzing in that door while we're still cooking up some plan to rescue her. You know how many times she's saved my life from some crazy situation?" He sobered and looked Koudelka levelly in the eye. "Your wife is the most stubborn and clever and amazingly badass woman I've ever met. She'll get through this and you'll see her again. Swear on my life." He glanced away. "I definitely owe her that much."   
  
Eiffel looked back at the man whose hand he was still holding, somewhat afraid he'd revealed too much. But David just smiled at him, intertwining their fingers.   
  
"You're completely in love with her, aren't you Doug?"   
  
"I - " Eiffel paused, and then said, staring very intently at his feet, "Yeah. I guess I am. But honestly...who wouldn't be?" His cheeks flushed at the admission and he kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the ground.   
  
Now it was David's turn to reach out and touch the side of his face. Tilting Eiffel’s face up to look at him, the older man smiled. "She's pretty fantastic. Obviously I don't blame you." He absently ran a thumb over Doug's cheek. "Thank you, Doug. For your devotion to her, out there  _ and _ now. She told me, a little bit. The few of her messages I actually got...I could tell she was grateful to have you there. You have no idea what that means to me, or what it means to have you helping me now."   
  
Hesitatingly slightly, he pulled Doug close and kissed him gently. Doug stiffened, evidently surprised, but then relaxed into it, letting his lips mold to the other man’s. Koudelka pulled back a moment later.    
  
"Was...was that okay?"   
  
Eiffel looked slightly dazed, having a bit of trouble comprehending that the admission that he was in love with another man's wife evidently garnered him kissing privileges with said man. He blinked. "Huh? Oh! Yeah. Absolutely okay. Feel free to do that whenever you want." Then, realizing he might have completely misunderstood his friend's intentions, he babbled, "I mean, it's your call. Not like, you have to, or - "   
  
He was cut off by David's mouth finding his once again.   
  
"Doug?" he murmured, his lips brushing Eiffel’s.   
  
"Yeah?" replied Eiffel, sounding dazed.   
  
David kissed him again before replying, "Stop overthinking things so much. You're as bad as she is..."   
  
"...I'll try. At least about that. Because...yeah. That was...really, really nice." He disentangled himself and slid slowly back into his own chair, catching his breath and running a hand through his mussed hair.   
  
"Good man." Koudelka smiled at him and leaned back in his seat. Looking at the files on the table, he sighed. Carefully closing them and stacking them in a neat pile, he said, "Okay. It's so late I'm pretty sure it just calls itself 'early' at this point. Let's get some sleep and start again tomorrow. I have that meeting with my source at 3:00, the one who claims to have info about the Goddard HQ security measures. And you're talking to that AI that Hera hooked us up with, right?"   
  
Eiffel nodded. "Right. Thought I'd make a few calls after that too. I might have tracked down a former employee that Cutter didn't manage to kill off, name of Rachel. I'll let you know what she has to say." He stood and stretched. "Mind if I crash on the couch again?"   
  
David stood too. "If you like, absolutely." He paused, then said, carefully, "Or the bed is an option too."   
  
Doug looked briefly surprised, then smiled, a little shyly. "I...really?"   
  
"Only if you want. Otherwise the couch is totally yours. Your choice."   
  
Reaching out, he caught David's hand again. 

"Lead the way."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was initially written like 18 hours before "Meanwhile" aired. I had no idea what was about to become of Rachel when I wrote this...


	7. nothing we can't face (if we're together) [minkowski & eiffel]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the prompt: Eiffel/anyone, "I don't care that it's 2:00 am, we need pie."

“I don't care that it’s 2:00 am,” Doug Eiffel said decisively. “We need pie.”

Renée Minkowski lifted her tired head from his shoulder where it had been resting for the last 20-odd minutes. She'd been nearly asleep and was moderately irritated at the interruption. “Eiffel, there’s nowhere around here you could even get pie this late.”

“Yeah,” he replied defensively, “I know. But how hard can it be to make?” Clearly coming to some internal resolution, he bounded to his feet with a surprising amount of vigor for a man who’d been awakened rudely in the middle of the night by a screaming nightmare, one that wasn't his own, even. 

Reaching down a hand to her, Doug looked at her beseechingly. “C’mon, commander. When has there ever been a problem to which pie wasn't a solution?”

Renée considered her options. She dearly wanted to go back to sleep, but by that same token...she shuddered. No thank you. For the moment, sleep was a risk, a gateway back to that horrible dark world where everyone was dead around her and the station was crumbling and falling into the star and-

She felt warm hands grip hers, and she took a deep breath, eyes closed, and focused on that connection to ground her back in the here and now. Opening her eyes again, she saw Eiffel kneeling in front of her, gripping her hands in his and watching her carefully.

“Hey there,” he said with obvious relief as her eyes fixed on him. “It's okay. Just...” Doug paused before speaking again, “Just focus on me, okay? I know Dom is way better at this sort of thing, but I’m doing my best. Take a deep breath, focus on me, and then breathe out.” He said this last bit in an unconsciously-studied cadence and she realized with a jolt how closely Eiffel must have been paying attention during past attacks that her husband had guided her through. She followed his instructions, never releasing the comforting pressure of his hands, slowly let the air escape her lungs.

After another deep breath, she got to her feet, still holding onto Eiffel. He switched his hold from her hands to her arms, steadying her. For a long moment, they stood looking at each other and in that moment, Renée could almost believe they were back aboard the Hephaestus, that horrible Christmas night. She felt similarly at the end of her fraying emotional rope and, just like before, Doug was there and staring her down with a desperate sort of determination. 

_“You’ll figure something out,”_ memory whispered in her mind.

She sighed, pulling him in for a quick hug and before heading toward the kitchen. “C’mon, Eiffel. You said something about pie?”


	8. dead sound of misery [minkowski & lovelace]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Minkowski/Lovelace - 'Get over here now and bring a tarp.'" Missed the mark on the ship a bit, but they're here and they've got problems...

“Get over here now and bring a tarp.”

A beat of silence, as she processes the request. Then, “Lovelace, what on earth - ”

“Just do it, Minkowski. _Now.”_ The call is cut off with all the decisive finality of a guillotine.

The drive takes forever and in no time at all, she hits the buzzer for apartment 593. How funny they’d thought that was - in a slightly horrible, “never going to escape it” kind of way - when Lovelace had rented it. Seems less funny now.

The door opens, the elevator creaks, _bang bang bang_ on the door.

“Where’s the tarp.” Flat voice, flat stare. This isn’t the Isabel she watched argue with Eiffel over _Star Wars_ last Friday, not the woman who had short-sheeted Minkowski’s bed on a dare the weekend before that and then laughed herself sick watching Renée flail around inside the twisted blankets, taking a picture rather than pity.

This is Lovelace straight from 2000 days in space, cold, affectless except for the hint of anger coloring the jagged edges of her clipped words.

Minkowski’s blood runs cold at the sight.

“Isabel, is everything okay?”

She laughs then, no mirth but plenty of hysteria. “God no. Get in here.” Pulls her inside with a tight grip on her upper arm. Door slammed shut, bolted once, twice, three times and a chain lock for good measure.

Minkowski takes in the messy apartment, the scattered possessions, the blood spatter on the wall, the dead man sprawled on the kitchen tile and feels numb shock settle comfortably around her.

“Don’t give me that look, Minkowski. He’s - he was - bad news. Goddard. A spy. A hit man. You know they want us gone after what we did to them. How we tattled on them to the whole world and they lost recess forever. He was sent to kill me.” A feral grin. “I got him first.”

She tries to speak, cannot find her voice. Swallows. Tries again. “Isabel...”

“Don’t you even start, Minkowski. Evil men call for desperate measures, you know that as well as I do.”

“Isabel. That’s the mailman.” The numbness presses in on her face, pressure in her ears like driving up a mountainside.

A derisive snort. “It’s a disguise, stupid.”

“No - ” Her voice is a croak again. Swallowing her revulsion, she pats down the body. “He doesn’t have any weapons.”

“What? No, I - ” Lovelace’s voice is cracking too now, her earlier rush is fading. “No, he had a gun, I saw it. He’s got a goddamn holster on his belt.”

“Pepper spray. For _dogs.”_

“No, he _had_ a gun, I saw it, and I pulled mine and...”

Deafening silence envelopes them.

“Renée? What...”

More silence, broken suddenly by the distant cry of sirens.

“What did I do?”


	9. employees must wash hands before returning to work [rachel & mr. cutter]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Rachel/Mr. Cutter - It's _sticky."_ Short, weird, and kind of gross.

“It’s _sticky.”_

“Well observed, Rachel! Gold star for you today!”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am _not_ touching that file.”

“With all due respect, Rachel, you _will_ touch this file. You will touch it _and_ hold it _and_ take it down to the Black Archives to be reshelved, or else you’ll end up like the subject of said file.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s the reason the file is sticky.”

_“Sir.”_

“Tick-tock, Rachel. A choice is going to have to be made here...”

“Ew ew _ew.”_

“Smart girl! Meet me in my office when you get back from the Archives.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, and Rachel?”

_“What?”_

“Please wash your hands before you come up. Scoot along, now!”


	10. face it all together [eiffel & minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from the end of episode 36: **Fire and Brimstone.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mari, who wanted to know what happened between Hilbert leaving and Minkowski being locked in the observation deck, and also why Doug was in the infirmary for his final scene.
> 
> (Not shippy unless you want to read it that way.)

“Well,” Hilbert said, a note of resigned finality in his voice, “I suppose that is that.” Opening the hatch, he headed off to tend to his newest patient.

Softly, to his retreating back, Minkowski replied, “Yeah. I guess it is.” She stayed staring at the hatch for a long moment and Eiffel hung back, hesitating, completely unsure of what to do. He knew he didn’t have much time before Kepler came looking for her and he had to say _something_ , but nothing brilliant was coming to mind.

Floating up behind her, he laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. She didn’t turn to look at him, but she didn’t turn around and karate chop him either, so he figured that was a good sign.

“Commander?” he asked, voice low. “You okay?”

Minkowski still didn’t turn around. “No.” A long sigh. “No, Eiffel, I’m really not. And I can’t even begin to get into all the reasons why because Kepler is definitely on his way down here right now, probably to shoot me.” He felt her start to shake.

“He can try,” Eiffel muttered darkly. “I’m not leaving you alone with him, Commander. Where you go, I go. Bombs and guns and megalomaniacs, oh my, notwithstanding.”

Now she turned, her face pale but resolute. “No. I got myself into this situation and I’ll get myself back out again. I don’t need you interfering or trying to protect me, Doug.”

He backed up a bit, hands held up defensively. “Whoa, who said anything about interfering? Not me.”

She snorted. “Eiffel, interfering and getting in the way are basically your two strongest skills.”

Doug laughed, but the sound was ever-so-slightly bitter, an edge of hurt to it. “Don’t worry Commander. I won’t do anything stupid. Just...I’ll back you up. If you want me to. And honestly, even if you don’t, I’m not going anywhere until I know Kepler isn’t going to Laura Roslin your butt into the void or something equally horrible, so save the protests. You’re stuck with me, at least for now.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Minkowski broke eye contact first, covering her face with her hands and letting out a muffled sound that might have been a sigh or a sob or a very quiet scream. Dragging them slowly down her face, she looked back at Eiffel with tired eyes.

“Thanks, Eiffel. I... Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hesitantly, he took her hand and, after a moment, she relaxed into his grip, intertwining their fingers. Smiling slightly, he gazed down at her. “Just like the old days, right? Minkowski and Eiffel versus the forces of evil. One badass space pilot commando gal and her loyal idiot lay waste to the hordes of darkness, emerging victorious after every battle! On and on they shall fight until all bad guys have been - ”

The hatch banged open and they both flinched. Kepler entered the room, somehow managing to stalk into the space despite the lack of gravity. An uneasy Lovelace was close behind.

“ - defeated,” Eiffel finished weakly. With a quick glance at Minkowski, he squeezed her hand once and dropped it, moving back to let her stand on her own like he knew she wanted.

“Lieutenant,” Kepler said, extracting a pair of handcuffs from one of the pouches on his belt. “I think you know what happens now.”

Minkowski held out her hands for the cuffs, jaw obstinate and eyes betraying a deep, silent rage. She didn’t say a word.

“Colonel, what are you - ” 

“Officer Eiffel, I suggest you take your leave.” The cuffs clicked around Minkowski’s outstretched wrists, and he nodded to Lovelace, who took hold of her arm and began to lead her out of the room.

“Sir - ”

Kepler pinned him with a furious glare and a broad, fake smile he must have learned from Cutter. “Officer. I suggest. You take. Your leave. Go check on Maxwell and Jacobi. Talk to Hera. You wouldn’t want her to think you’re mad at her, would you? After she told me all about your plan?”

Eiffel deflated. “No sir. I - I mean, yes sir. I’ll go to the infirmary.”

Kepler clapped him on the shoulder and Eiffel tried not to flinch. “Excellent choice, officer. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave. Eiffel couldn’t resist one last questioning attempt. “Sir, where are you taking her?”

Kepler chuckled as he continued out of the room. “Somewhere she can have a nice long think about what she did. Don’t worry, Officer Eiffel. No one blames you for what happened here today.” Glancing back, he added, “We know who the troublesome elements are on the this station. Everything will be fine. Now. I believe you were headed for the infirmary?”

Eiffel nodded weakly, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Yes sir. Right away.”


	11. freeze-dried space camp crap [lovelace & maxwell]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell encounters a surprise guest on the Urania late one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Who crawls through someone's window at four am for ice cream?"

“Freeze, Captain.” Maxwell’s voice murmured right in her ear. “Or I will be forced to shoot.”

Lovelace sighed and raised her hands over her head - no easy feat since she was hanging half out of an air vent in the Urania’s darkened cargo bay. “Easy there, Sparky. Not here to assassinate anyone. Just - never mind. I’ll go.” She began to shimmy her way back into the vent.

The hands that seized her wrists and pinned her in place were delicate but surprisingly strong. 

“Oh no, first you’re going to tell me why you were creeping around my station in the middle of the night.”

“Nighttime is arbitrary in space,” Isabel grumbled.

“Captain... Do I need to fetch the Colonel? See what he thinks about all this?”

“No!” Lovelace blurted. Hastily, she added, “I mean, no, doctor, that will not be necessary. I just...” She trailed off sounding embarrassed. 

“Tell me,” prompted Alana, hanging in the air in front of her by her grip on Isabel’s wrists.

“I... I heard Jacobi talking earlier about the supplies the Urania had brought from Earth. He... He said you had ice cream. _Real_ ice cream, not that freeze-dried space camp crap. Wanted to see for myself.”

Maxwell laughed disbelievingly. “Seriously? Who crawls through someone's window at four am for ice cream?"

“Someone who hasn’t tasted any in almost six years, that’s who.” She sighed, head drooping. “Just let me go.” Maxwell’s grip on her wrists didn’t lessen, and Lovelace looked back up to find the younger woman studying her.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what we can find.” When Isabel didn’t move, Alana tugged her on her arms, pulling her out of the vent. They collided slightly, Isabel’s arms going around Maxwell to steady the both of them. 

Maxwell huffed a quiet laugh and looked up at the captain. Waggling her eyebrows, she pulled away and began digging through the supplies. “Hope Daniel left us some. Since you came all this way and - aha! Here we are.” She offered the package to Isabel. “Dig in!”

“I - “ Lovelace hung there, looking entirely confused and unsure. Hesitantly, she reached for the proffered food. “Thanks.”

They ate the ice cream in companionable silence, passing it back and forth in the dim light of the hold.

“Good as you remembered?” Maxwell asked after a few bites.

Lovelace sighed again. “No. But then again, nothing ever is, is it?” She pushed off a nearby crate and headed for the vent. Pausing there for a moment, she spoke without turning. “It was nice of you to offer though. I... yeah. See you later.” 

And she was gone.


	12. nothing as pleasant as space pumas [lovelace/selberg]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Captain Lovelace has ordered termination of all samples."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Loveberg - 'Why the hell are you bleeding?'"

“Hey, Doctor Sel - Whoa, Doc, why the hell are you bleeding?” Lovelace pushed away from the hatch to the center of the room to float by his side. 

He turned away, obviously annoyed and shielding his bleeding hand in the folds of his lab coat.

“It is nothing. Mere scratch. There are medical supplies in the cabinet and I am capable enough doctor to manage - ”

She cut him off. “Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen. Which cabinet?”

“Captain, I must insist - ”

“And _I_ must insist you stop trying to be all stoic and self-sufficiently manly and let. Me. Help. You. Hey look, bandages!” Lovelace pulled out the necessary supplies and made her way back to the glowering doctor. “Let me take a look.”

Heaving a sigh that spoke of a universe’s worth of suffering on his shoulders, Elias held out his hand for Isabel to examine. The deep gash across the palm still bled sluggishly, and, at the sight of it, she let out a low whistle.

“Damn Doc, what on earth did you _do?”_ She cleaned the cut and looked at it more closely. “That looks almost like a claw mark. But unless you have a secret menagerie of space pumas hidden in here...” Isabel looked up sharply from her work. “Selberg, you _don’t_ have a secret menagerie of space pumas, right? ‘Cause if you do, not only do I have to order you to get rid of it, but I owe Fisher twenty bucks and I really don’t want to pay up.”

Selberg heaved another aggrieved sigh. “Captain, I promise there is no secret menagerie on this ship. Or if there is, it is secret even from me. There are no animals of any kind in this laboratory.” 

Lovelace’s eyes widened as she looked past him, dropping his hand to point. “Oh yeah Doc? Then what the hell is that thing?” She was looking at a massive spider clinging to the top of the cabinet behind the doctor. It’s huge pincers clicked menacingly and one dripped blood.

“That is arachnid. Not animal. I did not lie,” Selberg said, sounding defensive. “It is test subject of current radiation trials.”

“Yeah, that is the least okay thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Doc. It dies _now_. Any friends or family it has die as soon as I’m far enough away to not have to contemplate the presence of more than one of those things on board.” 

The doctor looked stricken. “Captain! I cannot destroy it, not when such progress is being made! What happened here today was isolated incident.” 

Lovelace laughed, a hollow, shrill chuckle. “That so doesn’t matter. I’m shooting it right the hell now before it takes another chunk out of you or carries Sam out the airlock or something.” Pulling her sidearm, she sighted on the creature and fired three quick rounds into it as it leapt toward them. A nudge with her foot confirmed it was dead. 

Turning back to Selberg, bandages in hand, she saw he was facing away from her, looking out the window with an unreadable expression on his face. Lovelace laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Doc, sorry about that but I have to look out for my crew. And that includes you. I don’t want to come in here some day to find you’ve been eaten by crazy death spiders.”

Tugging lightly on his shoulder, she turned him around and finished wrapping his hand. Neither of them spoke again.


	13. dream about the days to come [eiffel/minkowski/koudelka]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for the prompt "Mindelkaffel - a kiss on the forehead"

Doug Eiffel wakes up in the middle of the night knowing what he needs to do.

Slipping quietly out of bed so as not to wake Dominik and Renée, he washes quickly and then sets about making the preparations. 

It’s quick work to book a bus ticket, especially when he doesn’t especially care about the end destination. It takes somewhat longer than expected to gather his things - when had he acquired so much _stuff_ he wonders idly - but he doesn’t want to leave any mess behind for them to deal with.

He’ll be leaving behind enough of a mess as it is, he knows, and guiltily realizes that he should have done this a week ago, the second he overheard Renée on the phone with Dom, talking about how “this just wasn’t working for her.”

That old adage about eavesdropping certainly was true - well, she hadn’t actually mentioned him by _name,_ but what else could Minkowski have been referring to? Their relationship upgrade was the only major change in her life. Ergo, if something wasn’t working for her, it was obviously _him._

He may not have heard anything _good_ about himself, that much was true, but Doug thanks every deity he’s never believed in that he’d heard her when he had. Otherwise, how much longer might he have been happily ignorant, oblivious to her pain?

Slipping quietly back into the bedroom, he gazes down at their peacefully sleeping forms, imagining the relief they’ll feel tomorrow morning when they wake up and find him finally gone. He leans down and brushes a soft kiss across Dominik’s forehead, wishing him all the best, before circling to the other side. He looks at Renée for a long moment and his resolve almost cracks, he almost climbs back into the big warm bed, thinks about how wonderful it would feel to pull her into his arms as he burrows back against Dom -

 _Stop that,_ he chides himself. _You’ve gotta go. Don’t you want them to be happy?_

He brushes a strand of hair back from her face and presses a lingering kiss to Renée’s forehead. Shouldering his bag, he turns and leaves the dark, silent house without a single backwards glance.


	14. i need something more [minkowski/lovelace]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for the prompt "Minlace - a kiss on the collarbone"

Even in her sleep, Isabel Lovelace looked like she wanted to fight someone.

Renée contemplated the younger woman silently and sadly in the faint gray pre-dawn light that filtered in through the nearby window, tracing a finger down one high cheekbone and, feather-light, across the full, downturned lips.

Even in sleep, she looked angry and desperate and full of rage and the need to prove herself.

Maybe that was why, when the hotel’s desk clerk had told them there was only one room with one bed left, Renée had volunteered to share with Isabel. 

They’d both agreed it would be fine, just one night til another room opened up, and with the trial starting up they had bigger things to worry about. 

Neither of them looked at each other as they’d agreed on this. 

Things unfolded as they always did, as they always would, as they always swore they wouldn’t again.

And later, much, much later, in the dawning light of another day of fighting, Renée pillowed her head on Isabel’s shoulder. As she drifted in the hazy twilight between waking and sleeping, she brushed a light kiss over Isabel’s collarbone, exposed by the tank top she slept in, wanting to say something but lacking the words.

Both of them knew they wouldn’t be booking that second room tomorrow.


	15. clinging [lovelace/minkowski]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for the prompt "Minlace - a kiss on the hip"

“Oh, _fuuuu - ”_

The explosion rocked the station, tearing panels from the walls, snapping cables, and throwing the two women and Hilbert around in a passable impression of original-series Star Trek crew members.

It _also_ burst the seal on the nearest airlock. The one directly behind Minkowski, who was jerked again, this time toward the inky black depths of space.

 _“Lovelace!”_ she screamed, grabbing frantically for a handhold - anything to keep her inside the station while Hilbert sealed the breach.

Isabel flung herself at her commander, catching her around the waist, and bracing them both. Hilbert almost had it covered, almost - 

_“GET THAT SEALED OR I WILL THROW YOU OUT IT, SO HELP ME, ELIAS!”_ Lovelace bellowed. 

The tearing pressure stopped. The airlock was closed. 

Lovelace clung to Minkowski’s waist, her face pressed against the other woman’s hip. She could feel Renee trembling, shaking from physical exertion and fear, and Isabel could blame her. The shakes were coming over her in a bad way too. 

Letting out a shaky breath, she pressed a kiss to the sliver of skin in front of her, where Minkowski’s shirt had come untucked in the commotion.

“I can’t lose anyone else,” she whispered. Dimly, she felt the commander’s hand rest briefly on her hair.

Hilbert cleared his throat and Lovelace started, letting her go.

“Right,” she said, all business once more. “How do we stop _that_ from happening again?”


	16. like the dead sea [kepler/jacobi]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt “Kepler and Jacobi, you told me I was like the dead sea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be Kepcobi but the opening exchange popped into my head fully-formed and ended up veering down a slightly Jacoffel route? A kind of cracky one? I don’t know, man, but it was damn fun to write.

“So how’d it go?” Eiffel asked around a mouthful of contraband Pringles. “Did he break ya? Does he know about the thing?”

Jacobi paused. “He told me I was like the Dead Sea.”

Doug considered this for a moment, then responded, “Salty yet fun to play in?”

He received a smack upside the head for his trouble and choked on his chips. “No, asshole. It involved one of his long, crazy stories. Started with him either fighting or assisting terrorists and ended with a vat of hummus and a key to the city. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, mostly because I didn’t give a shit and tuned out halfway through. Came back at the end to nod appreciatively and say ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir’ like a good boy.”

“Uh _huh,”_ Eiffel replied, crunching another chip and looking mystified. “And how did this story relate to you?”

Jacobi snagged a chip from between Doug’s fingers. “No idea. Maybe the explosions? Or the hummus - ” Here, Daniel abruptly cut himself off and began to cough rather explosively, face gone beet red. “Not that he has any reason to associate me with hummus. Definitely not. Must have been the explosions. Hey, I’m gonna go find Maxwell, kay? Catch you later, Eiffel.”

And he was gone, flinging himself through the hatch in a whirl of coughing and embarrassment. 

Eiffel stared after him. “Hera?” he called as he brushed chip crumbs from his shirt, appetite suddenly gone. “Do I _want_ to know what that was all about?”

“Absolutely not, Officer Eiffel. I’ve seen some things in their personal files and...” she trailed off, sounding unsettled. “Let’s just say I have even less of an understanding of certain human desires now. And honestly, I don’t even think hummus would be particularly _effective_ in that - ”

 _“YouwererightIdon’twanttoknow,”_ Doug blurted, turning a lovely shade of red himself. “Hera! I don’t...” He shook himself like a dog shaking off water. “Gah. So wrong, darling. Coming from you, I mean.” With one last shudder, he composed himself. “So. Wanna come with me to the comms room and see what’s playing on Literal Sirius Radio today?”

“I’d love to, Officer Eiffel. Just...”

“What, babe?”

“Don’t forget to hide the chips. Wouldn’t want Jacobi to find them.”


	17. the villainy you teach me, I will execute [jacobi]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Jacobi - It's better to feel pain than nothing at all." 
> 
> Set post-episode 42: Time to Kill. Quoted text and title from Shakespeare's _The Merchant of Venice_. 
> 
> Content warning for self-harm.

He is real. He can prove it.

Watch.

He beats his fist against the bulkhead, dents it, leaves his hand sore for days.

All real. All tangible and there and not the sort of thing a fake person could do.

He pinches himself, bruises the flesh of his upper arms and thighs.

The marks are real, and so are the hands that made them.

Pokes his finger with a pin, bright crimson wells up.

The blood is real. And so is he.

 _If you prick us,_ he thinks half-hysterically, watching the blood drip drip drip. _Prick us, tickle us, poison us..._

Real people feel things. Real people bleed when pricked, laugh when tickled, die when poisoned.

 _And if you wrong us,_ he thinks, tracking Lovelace through lowered eyes, _shall we not revenge?_


End file.
